Shock pricks me in little waves as I realize how little I know about this man. “Are you moving?”
He doesn’t turn, doesn’t look my way. “That’s the plan.”
I nod. Right. There’s a deadline for what we’re doing.
“I have another building downtown. I’ll start renovating it as soon as…” He casts me a quick glance. “As soon as I’m done with my current contract.” Another deadline. So many deadlines.
“Cool.”
“Yep.”
“What’ll that one be?”
“Mixed use. Condos. Shops.”
“But you still own the Carytown building. Where you work.”And do other things. If only she knew what he and I get up to in the basement.
“I do.”
“Not flipping it, then?”
He sniffs. “Not for the moment.”
Hannah sits back. I know her well enough to realize there’s at least onewhat are your intentions with my sister?question hovering on the horizon, and I cannot take that right now.
Maybe I don’t want to know. I mean, what aremyintentions, even? A few days ago, I’d have wanted him gone and said good riddance. But now? I like Grant. Onlylikeisn’t the right word. I turn and look at his profile, and all the things that come up are way stronger than like. I like Dorothy. I like Harlow. What I’m feeling for this man is nowhere near that.
“Stop the questions, Hannah.”
She snorts.
“Hey!” Otty mumbles. “We passed my place!”
“You can stay at mine.”
“Ew. In a kid’s bed? No, thanks, Hannah.” Otty’s up and fully awake. “Take me home, please, Angry Hot Man.”
“I’m not angry.”
“His name’s Grant.”
“Grangry,” Hannah whispers.
Otty leans forward to stare at his profile. “He’s so serious.”
There’s a pause while we all appear to consider that.
“He mostly is,” I concede.
Grant glances over at me and then back to the road, the subtlest smile in his eyes.
He puts a hand out and covers mine, which feels, oddly, more intimate than anything else we’ve done.
Uh-oh.
I don’t look down at it or acknowledge the overture, other than turning my hand and clasping his back.
The rough, comforting hand, the warm truck, my sisters safe in the back seat.
